
1/. B. WILLIAMS. 



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COPYRIGHT OFFICE. 



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(Date) 

(6,1,1906—2,000.) 



MIKE 



OR THE CUTTING OF 
A SLUM DIAMOND 



■^jy^f^ 



By M. B. WILLIAMS 

Author of ' * Among Many Witnesses'' ' ' Words fo. 
the Anxious'' "Where Satan Sows his Seed,'" 
"Best Text for Soul Winners," etc. 



FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
Chicago New York roRONTO 

Publishers of Evangelical Literature 



\ 






Copyright iSgy, by 
Fleviing //. Rev ell Co7ftpany 
All rights reserved 



INTRODUCTION 

Mar / Mrr.es after telling this little story in 
one of wy sermons I have been urged to put it 
in print, either in tract or booklet form, but 
have never written it until now^. I have heard 
of several versions of it in different papers, 
written by those who had listened to the recital. 
It may please the reader to know that this 
story is not simply founded on fact — it is a 
fact. The work mentioned as being done in 
the gospel tent was done under the auspices of 
the Moody Bible Institute in the years of their 
tent evangelization. It was through Mr. Tor- 
rey, its superintendent, that I was induced to 
spend that summer in Chicago tent work. 
Miss Susie Poxen was then working with the 
Institute, and she is the teacher to whom ref- 
erence is constantly made and who led Mike 
to Christ. Merely a touch of color here and 
there has been added to lend interest to the 
scenes as they are described ; but it truthfully 
shows what can be done with a slum boy, 
through the servants of Jesus filled with His 
Spirit. 

M. B. W. 



MIKE 

I 

"Hi there!" 

The speaker was not an orator; he was not 
even a man; he was only a street boy, but in 
one respect at least he resembled a man, for he 
was fearfully and wonderfully made. 

"Is that tent fur a circus?" 

But before I could make answer, another 
gamin of the street had replied, with startling 
force — " Naw." 

"Wot is it, thin?" 

"A church." 

A half dozen boys volunteered this informa- 
tion, and it was apparently sufficient, for the 
questioner had made a wry face, and with 
several gyrations and contortions, hardly to 
be called elegant, had disappeared, causing no 
small laugh among the smaller boys and girls 
representing the genus gamin, which largely 
predominated in the crowd of spectators. 

A circus! Many a time I had heard that 
question asked, not by the street children of a 
great city, but by the boys and girls, and some- 
times the men and women of interior towns, 
as they would gather around the newly erected 
canvas or watch the workmen putting up one 



MIKR 



of our magnificent canvas tabernacles for union 
meetings. 

I looked at the newly erected canvas over 
the way ; then I looked at the surroundings 
and pondered. How do I happen to be here? 
what possible good can be accomplished, even 
with the gospel, among this "submerged 
tenth"? But I had thought and prayed over 
it for weeks and had decided to come as an ex- 
periment — and at last I am here. 

I am to preach in the slums of a great city 
The work to me was as novel as it was new. 
I had asked for a place where no one else 
would care to go, but where, while I tried an 
experiment, I might at least be sure of doing 
good; and the present location of the canvas 
decided me that 1 had found all my suggestion 
implied. Yet I looked on with many misgiv- 
ings, and again asked myself the questions: 
"What can be accomplished here?" "What, 
indeed, that will be permanent?" "What re- 
sults can be obtained that will remain after the 
tent has gone?" 

I was in one of the dark plague spots of 
Chicago— one of the breeding places of crime. 
Surely, a hatchery of iniquities and a fine cul- 
ture medium for all varieties of devilment and 
sin. Not far away in one direction was " Lit- 
tle Hell." A few steps in the opposite direc- 
tion was South Halsted Street, with its great 



MIKE 7 

mass of festering wickedness and corruption. 
A few blocks to the north, the old Haymarket 
and headquarters of the anarchists. 

I had just passed by the monument erected 
in memory of the murdered policemen, slain 
by the exploding of a dynamite bomb. It was 
Sunday afternoon, July 4, 1892. Recent and 
continued rains had caused the mud and dirt to 
be aggressively apparent, even in Chicago's 
streets; and this precinct had not been remark- 
able for its sweetness. A dead horse had been 
waiting for a drayman for many a long hour 
in an alley not far away. It, too, was becom- 
ing aggressive in its impatience. A muddy 
pool at the rear of the tent had swollen until 
it had become a pond. An arm.y of small, 
one-garmented children had taken possessipn, 
and had formed rafts from posts, old gates and 
broken timber, which they were floating and 
poling from bank to bank. 

What looking children some of them were! 
What strange garments they wore! The ab- 
breviated skirts of the girls and rare remnants 
of cast-off clothing uniquely fastened in various 
ways to various places scantily covered the 
forms of both boys and girls. Every now and 
then one would lose his or her footing and slip 
from the unique craft into the muddy waters 
— which accident would be followed by shouts 
loud and long, mingled with curses, not always 



8 MIKE 

loud, but deep. Modesty, of which the quan- 
tity was sometimes indicated by a minus sign, 
was forgotten. Oaths were heard from girls as 
well as boys, and the rough expressions used 
were shocking even to a masculine ear. 

Poor little gutter-snipes! To them this was 
the joy of life. To them it was an earthly 
paradise. This filthy pond was their river 
of life, and perhaps as near as some of them 
would ever get to heaven. Handicapped from 
birth for life's race, the hot blood of passion 
and alcoholism poured into their beings by vi- 
cious and ignorant parents, turned loose to run 
with every dog in street and alley, amenable 
to but two laws, and those the Survival of the 
Fittest and the law of Reversion to Type — 
the type itself largely degenerate — what could 
be expected in the new generation? Heredity, 
birth, culture and education all tending to make, 
not useful citizens, but criminals and adepts 
in vice. The gospel or the penitentiary? the 
law of God or the reform school? To one of 
these must they look for help. 

Just back of the tent a company of men were 
pitching quoits. Some of these were evidently 
workmen, while others were professional loaf- 
ers. They played for beer to make the game 
more interesting, for it was Fourth of July. 
Money was plenty, times flush ; and who would 
rob a poor man of his beer? especially on the 



MIKE 9 

Fourth of July. So they continued to play, 
to swear and to drink. A long line of cans or 
" growlers" were being " rushed" by men, 
women and children, but especially children — 
and it seemed to me more especially girls — 
from a hundred open grog shops; sometimes 
from front door and sometimes from rear, back 
to their wretched homes. 

Now and then the sound of an incipient 
brawl would be heard through shattered win- 
dow or attic flat, on one side or the other; for 
the beer was doing its work and the glorious 
Fourth was to be truly celebrated. Fire 
crackers and other explosives were being fired 
in every direction ; they were thrown over and 
under the canvas; they were thrown at every 
passer-by. It was hard to understand how 
such wretched buildings could escape the fire. 
As night came on these increased in variety, 
and an occasional rocket would be fired; but 
above everything else, poverty, vice and crime 
w^ere evident on every hand. Simply the nat- 
ural spawm of the saloons and rum shops of 
various grades that infested the district. The 
liquor dealer alone seemed well-to-do, and he 
was most numerous. On Halsted Street al- 
most every building seemed to have a saloon 
above or below. Pool rooms and dance halls, 
gambling rooms — wide open. No more sign 
of the holy Sabbath day than would be ob- 



10 MIKE 



served in Central Africa or China. Was it 
here that I must spend a month? here that I 
must preach? to this crowd that we must both 
preach and sing the gospel? 

But I am not to tell the story of that month's 
work with its failures and successes, though 
it would make an interesting volume. We 
found some good helpers even in that neigh- 
borhood, and years afterwards, converts from 
those services sought us out in other parts of 
the city and in other cities, coming many miles 
to attend our meetings and tell us of the new 
life begun in that most hopeless place. I am 
simply to tell the story of Mike— only one of 
the many interesting cases of the month. 

II 

When a godly woman gives her life to Christ, 
offering to spend its strength among the chil- 
dren of the slums. He never leaves her in her 
efforts. Such was the one who held children's 
services four afternoons each week in our tent. 
Out and in among these surroundings of 
wickedness and vice, like a heavenly messen- 
ger, she came and went, gathering up the boys 
and girls; and with her tender way and kindly 
winning manner, inviting them to come. 

They came— all types and classes— some be- 
cause they had nothing else to do; others out 
of curiosity ; others because her face,her words, 



MIKE 11 

the songs, the meeting in the cool and pleasant 
tent were like a ray of heavenly sunshine in 
their darkened lives. 

One day she came to me with a sad face and 
clouded brow. "There is one boy who is al- 
most spoiling our children's meeting," she 
said. "What shall I do with him?" 

"Why, don't allow it; throw him out if 
you can't make him behave," I replied. 

"Oh, yes, I could throw him out,but I don't 
like to do that after I have asked him in. I 
want him saved for Jesus." 

"Who is he and what is he?" 

"His name is Mike." 

That didn't convey much information, how- 
ever, as most of them were either Mikes or 
Micks; but when she began to describe him I 
recognized him at once. Long and lank, he 
looked a trifle overgrown. He was a two- 
garmented, one-gallused boy. His two gar- 
ments consisted of a checkered shirt, much 
stained and badly soiled, and a pair of trousers, 
fringed at the bottom. The legs of the trousers 
were of unequal length — one being drawn up 
nearly to his knee, the other not so far; for 
Mike was modest and would hide the fringe; 
he hated any such fastidious displa3^ A sort of 
suspender, fastening at the left front, crossing 
the right shoulder and fastening somewhere at 
the back with a nail, held up in part these much 



12 MIKE 

worn trousers. His large, dirty feet seemed 
almost webbed; his hands would match them 
nicely, while his face would do to cut up for 
trimming, the shade was so similar. His red 
hair had been treated to a home-made cut — 
little hills and valleys, blood red, told of car- 
nage and marked the progress of the fray. His 
mouth was large to ugliness, save when he 
laughed, and then one wondered how so great 
a change could come so quickly. His ears 
were large and flat; his eyes so crossed you 
would think that if he cried the tears would 
all run down his back. But he was as bright 
as he was bad, and sharp as he was ugly. 

"Hecamd in turning somersaults the first 
time he attended," she continued, "and I 
thought he would surely break up everything 
in the tent. He sits down by the little girls 
and smiles at them, which always frightens 
them and makes them cry. If my eye is off 
him for an instant he does some horrible 
thing." 

Her voice was trembling, and again I said, 
" Don't allow him to spoil your meetings; I 
know him well. Twice each night he has to 
be thrown out of the tent. We throw him out 
on one side and he goes around and comes in 
on the other. Then we throw him out there. 
He is an awful boy. I saw him the first day 
we came." 



MIKE 13 

"Hi there," he had shouted, "is this tent 
fur a circus?" 

Bound not to be disappointed, he was do- 
ing his best to convert it into a circus or the 
nearest possible approach thereto. 

At my answer her lip quivered and her eyes 
were wet with tears. "Yes, I could throw 
him out, of course, but I thought maybe you 
could advise me how to save him and — help 
me pray for him." 

I replied, " Y-y-es, I'll try." I freely con- 
fess, however, that my faith never removed the 
mountains between that boy and his Lord, but 
she prayed and worked on. 

Ill 

I got the story in chapters from her lips as 
the days passed by. One day she said, " I 
think the change is coming. I prayed so hard, 
'Lord, give me Mike;' and finally I hit upon 
a plan. He was bothering me more than usual 
that day, when I said 'Mike,' and he rolled 
that twisted eye defiantly and mockingly at me. 
'Mike, I need an assistant — some one to help 
me in the meetings — to give out cards and 
papers, and you are the biggest boy I have. 
It seems to me you ought to be my assistant 
here.'" 

Mike rolled up that eye with a new^ ex- 
pression, an expression of wonder and in- 



14 MIKE 

credulity. He of all boys to be the teacher's 
assistant! 

" You are big enough to help me keep 
order and do everything of that kind." 

The eye snapped with a new light and a 
strange fire. Found him at last where he 
lived — to keep order. How that face bright- 
ened, as thoughts of enforced submission and 
many a lively scrap to come kindled joys in his 
heart that nothing else could have done! 

"H your hands were cleaner you might dis- 
tribute the picture cards to-day; and there is 
some water in the pail behind the platform. 
You will find a cake of nice new soap there, 
too. If you can get a little boy to help you, 
perhaps you can make them do for to-day." 

She had hardly said it before he had a small 
boy by the collar and had taken him over a 
bench and around the platform, while between 
the trickling and the splashing could be heard 
Mike's hoarse voice commanding the trem- 
bling small boy — " Pour." And he poured. He 
found a piece of newspaper and used it for a 
towel; then he presented himself, holding up 
his hands. He had hastened much, perhaps 
fearing that another might be called to take 
the coveted place. 

"They are not quite dry enough, I am 
afraid," said the teacher. 

"Oh, I can fix that all right," said he, and 



MIKE 15 

sought what would have been the secret recesses 
beneath the skirts of his coat — had he worn 
one — and rubbed vigorously. Producing the 
lost members he held them up again and asked, 
"How's that? lean rub them drier if that 
won't do." 

"No, no, Mike, I think they will do," said 
his astonished teacher. " Give out the cards 
now — one to each child, no more." 

He was gone. Down the aisle he was pass- 
ing them out, and in his hoarse voice to the 
child who dared to ask — like the historic Oliver 
— for more, loftily replied, "No, ye can't 
have but one. Be still and don't disturb the 
meetin." 

It was a risky experiment, but it worked. 
When he had finished he came and sat down 
on the front seat waiting patiently for further 
orders. Directly the meeting was dismissed 
he disappeared, but the next day he was there, 
and prompt among the first arrivals, and when 
he presented himself he proudly showed his 
hands. They were washed in advance, and 
clear up to his wrists at that; and his face — 
well, he had neither mirror nor towel, but he 
had washed out a big place like an oasis in a 
desert; bounded on the north by a dirty brow, 
on the east and west by two dirty ears, and on 
the south by a grime-stained chin and neck. 
But, as he could not dry his face as he had 



16 MIKE 

dried his hands, the desert was irrigated by 
dirty little streams that had cut out gulches in 
the rich alluvial deposits on the borders. It 
was an improvement, however, and he came 
with a bound and somersault to show them off. 
"That is quite an improvement, Mike," 
said the kind-hearted teacher. "Now you may 
take charge of the papers and you may assist 
me in keeping order to-day. You are the 
biggest boy in the meeting." Mike winked 
and bowed his acknowledgments, and forth- 
with installed himself as "Chief of Police," 
and seemed to the manor born. And woe be- 
tide the small disturber of the peace! Mike's 
iron hand was on him, and Mike's crooked 
eyes seemed looking everywhere at once, but 
it was serious business in spite of his aggress- 
ive zeal. A change had surely begun in the 
boy. He was a part of the meeting indeed 
from that time on. Little by little I noticed a 
change in him at night. He was thrown out 
no more now, but kept his seat respectfullv 
each time until service was over. Little by 
little new garments replaced the old and soil- 
stained rags that he had worn when first I saw 
him. He always seemed watching for some- 
thing to do. Like others of his ilk and those in 
higher life, he was restless without employ- 
ment, and Satan finds some mischief still for 
idle hands to do. Each day at the close of the 



MIKE 17 

children's meeting, he could be seen carrying 
his teacher's bag to the car, and standing until 
she disappeared from view. No one dared to 
throw a bad potato or offer her any indignity 
from ambush; Mike had his eyes open and she 
was in his charge. His honor was being 
aroused. Perhaps his heart was touched and 
he was at least converted to his teacher. 

IV 

It was one of those burnings scorching days 
that Chicago dreads so much. The mercury 
had steadily risen in the thermometers since 
early morning. Little crowds collected around 
the down-town bulletins watching for the num- 
ber of sunstrokes reported. The oldest inhab- 
itant tried in vain to recall a hotter time, and 
the regular habitues of the Tribune corner 
shook their heads and said that this meant mis- 
chief,and then hastened onto shelter. Eighty- 
five strokes the day before, and many deaths ! 
To-day threatened to break the record. Those 
who could raise a nickel took the cars and found 
a cool retreat in some green park or shady 
nook, but the parks were too far away for the 
slum children, and only a few could find the 
car-fare there and back. Men and horses 
dropped in the street. Laborers came down 
from buildings and scaffoldings to go up no 
more. Sickly babes gasped for breath, and 



18 Af/A/T 

stretched their bony fingers up and out for help, 
too weak to cry. Caches in the parks were 
full ; and yet there were many more who suf- 
fered. Coiling spirals of heat rose up from 
flagstones and paving. Dogs ran wild-eyed 
with lolling tongues, and some with frothing 
mouths went mad. The discord of harsh 
voices and frightened cries — then the bang, 
bang, of a policeman's pistol told the sequel of 
the story. When the sun should set and night 
come it would be little better in the slums. No 
breath of air would be stirring; roofs would 
be covered with gasping crowds who would 
try in vain to sleep; while in Dago alley, ten, 
twenty and sometimes thirty would be packed 
in one small, stifling room with no roof on 
which to lie. 

We often think with pity of the poor in 
winter time when blizzards blow, and the mer 
cury falls below the zero mark ; yet there are 
always kind hearts and ready hands at such 
times to send clothing and fuel; but no hand 
can relieve them in the long days and nights 
of summer heat. Oftentimes they suffer more 
in July or August than in midwinter. 

Tired, sick and faint, the teacher left her 
car and turned toward the tent. "W'hy? 
What is this?" Something unusual, which 
evidently attracted her attention. A little caval- 
cade of boys and girls — but what are they up 



MIKE 19 

to? Mike led the van, and in his hand a pitchei. 
After him a little fellow with a cup, cracked 
and yellow. Another held a huge spoon. A 
little girl carried a piece of ice wrapped in a 
paper. Another a twisted wad of newspaper 
containing sugar. Then one more, carry ing 
a lonesome looking little lemon. 

Mike, of course, was the spokesman: 
" Teacher, it's so hot that we thought you'd 
he thirsty, so we're goin' to set 'em up; we're 
goin' to stand the lemonade." 

" How nice of my children to think of me this 
hot day ! Well, come, let us go into the tent and 
make it." And they all sat down in the saw- 
dust under the shadow of the big canvas. 

"Children," said the teacher, "I know how 
to make lemonade too ; won't you let me help ?" 

"Yes," said Mike, "yer can help," with a 
strong emphasis on the last word, for he was 
jealous of his task. 

Then she looked at the little, eager, dirty 
lingers and said in her heart, " Lord Jesus, I 
can do anything for Thee — almost — but I must 
squeeze the lemon for myself." "Children, 
let me squeeze the lemon and you may do all 
the rest." Then she did her part while they 
talked and stirred and poured, after which 
Mike filled the cup to the brim and handed it 
to her. Then she closed her eyes and drank 
it. Mike took back the cup and looked in to 
be sure it was empty. 



20 MIKE 

" Then what do you think he did ?** said she. 

"I don't know; what did he do?" 

"Well, he just put his head down in that 
sawdust and turned one of those characteristic 
somersaults." 

" That was his way of show in jr his appreci- 
ation because you drank his lemonade." 

" Yes, I know it. I understand boys pretty 
well, and do you know, I believe somethin<^ 
more is going to come of all this." 

She was no false prophet and the sequel 
will tell what it was. 



"You know to-morrow is our last day in 
this location." It was the teacher who was 
speaking to me. 

"Yes, why?" 

"Well, we have a little surprise for you. 
Will you come down to our children's service?" 

"Certainly." 

" I have something that will interest you 
about Mike. To-day, when all the rest had 
gone, he stayed as usual to see me on the car. 
He has been so kind and attentive lately to my 
every little want; he has seemed even to an- 
ticipate them. Not one particle of trouble has 
he made me, but has seemed to feel his respon- 
sibility and recognize the fact of his usefulness. 
To-day I saw my opportunity and before we 



MIKE 21 

left the tent I said: 'Mike, you have been 
such a help to me lately — so kind and good. 
You have changed wonderfully in the past 
four weeks and I appreciate it all so much, but, 
Mike, you have not really given your heart to 
Jesus yet; have you?'" 

His head had fallen on his breast, and in a 
low tone he replied, "No'm." 

"Why don't you do it, my boy?" and she 
stood looking down at him, her yearning heart 
of love beaming and shining in her eyes. 

" How could a feller hold out till the tent got 
back?" 

"Why, Mike, Jesus is here just the same, 
whether the tent is here or not." 

"Is he? I never saw Him." 

"Now, Mike, you know he is; don't talk 
that way," — hardly able to suppress a half 
smile at the boy's quick wit and drollery. 
"You know, there are churches and missions 
where you could go. Mike, Jesus loves you. 
He died for you and He wants you for His 
own. Won't you let me lead you to Him be- 
fore I go? Oh! Mike, I have prayed for you 
and yearned for you so ! It does not seem to 
me I can leave this place unless I know you 
are truly converted to Him. Do get down on 
vour knees and tell Him all about it. God 
says,' Come. Let us reason together !' Ask Him 
for what you want just as you would ask any 



22 MIKE 

friend, and He will grant it. Jesus is as will- 
ing to save you as anylxxly in all the vv(jrld if 
you will let Ilim. 'For God so lo\ ed the 
world that lie gave His only Ijegotten son, that 
whosoever' — rememher, ^like, whosoever, that 
means you — 'helieveth in llini should not 
joerish, but have everlasting life.' Won't you, 
Mike?" 

He glanced up for an instant, looked into 
her face and overflowing eyes. There was 
now no impudent look in his face or eye, but 
rather, a. strange look, as though a far-off 
memory had been stirred, as though a recess 
in his heart which he knew not of had been 
discovered, as though a life which he had 
scarcely dreamed of was opening up before 
him. 

He waited only an instant and then, down 
on his knees by the bench he dropped and hid 
his face in his hands. 

She quickly knelt by his side and placed her 
hand upon his shoulder. Then she prayed: 
"Oh! dear Lord Jesus, Thou Good Shepherd 
of the Sheep, fond, tender Shepherd, seeking 
after lost ones from the fold to-day, we believe 
you have found Mike. Out in the fields and 
on the hillsides of sin, broken, bleeding and 
wounded, torn with many a thorn — take him 
to-day in Thy loving arms, down close to Thy 
tender heart, and never let him go until he is 



MIKE 23 

safe home at last. Keep him as the days go 
by when temptations come, for he may be 
tempted to swear and to steal and to drink and 
to gamble, and to forget Thee and this tent. 
Leave him not in temptation, but deliver him 
from all these evils for Thine own dear name's 
sake. Amen!" 

"Now, Mike, pray for yourself." 

" I never worked at that." 

"Never mind, just tell what you want; don't 
be afraid." Her arm tightened about the boy's 
shoulder; her heart was yearning with love 
for that poor waif's soul. Then he tried to 
clear his throat and gather his voice while he 
prayed : 

" Lord Jesus,! want to be a Christian. For- 
give my sins. Make me a good boy. And 
help me to hold out till the tent comes back." 

Then they arose. His cheeks were wet 
with tears. A little Testament was slipped 
into his hand, with words of counsel and a few 
marked passages. Jude : 24: "Now unto Him 
that is able to keep you from falling and to 
present you faultless before the presence of 
His glory with exceeding joy." And i Cor. 
10: 13: "There hath no temptation taken you 
but such as is common to man ; but God is 
faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted 
above that ye are able; but will with the 
temptation also make a way to escape, that ye 



34 MIKE 

may be able to bear it." Then this kni^^ht- 
errant of the streets escorted his teacher to the 
car and he was gone. 

VI 

It was the last day for the big tent in that 
part of the city. The afternoon service was 
on. I looked at the little expectant faces 
gathered there. What a change had come in 
those four weeks! Clean faces, clean dresses 
and hair brushed smoothly back. 

"Not the same children you started with, I 
see." 

"No, not quite the same." 

But when I saw her smile I understood her 
meaning. The same, yet not the same, be- 
cause changed by the grace of God. New 
children in Christ Jesus. I spoke a few- 
minutes; so did the teacher. Then she said: 
"Now we will give the little surprise we 
have planned." 

A crowd of little girls came up onto the 
platform and sang, "God be with you till we 
meet again." 

How sweet their voices sounded! I cer- 
tainly was surprised ; but there were other sur- 
prises yet in store. 

"Now we will have our farewell testimony 
meeting." A testimony meeting among these 
slum children! Ridiculous! But hark ! WTiat 



MIKE 25 

is this? A little voice is saying: "I am glad 
of these meetings. I know I have been con- 
verted. I don't do and say things like I used 
to; and I pray to Jesus every morning and 
night." Another arose — "I know^ I have been 
converted, and my mamma and papa have too ; 
they have burned up the cards, and they don't 
beat me any more, and vs^e have such a nice 
time at home; and we have prayers every 
day." Another arose — "When I was con- 
verted, I went right home and asked my papa 
and mamma to come ; they came at night and 
have given their hearts to Jesus, and I don't 
have to go after the beer no more." 

One after another the boys and girls spoke. 
I found a choking in my throat. What a 
change! Last of all, Mike arose. He had a 
clean checkered shirt on, in pattern much like 
the tennis shirt I had put on for these services. 
A good pair of suspenders held a clean, cheap 
pair of cotton trousers in place. His hands 
and face were clean. But as he stood he found 
no place to put his hands. He was kicking 
the sawdust with his bare toes, saying, "Well, 
I was about the last one to be converted; but 
I'm glad I did, and hope I'll hold out till the 
tent gets back." Then he sat down. Some 
of the children smiled a little at Mike and his 
testimony, but he was not disconcerted. 

Another song, a brief farewell word from 
the teacher, and the service was over. I had 



21 MIKI: 

seen my first month's work in the slums of 
Chicago. I went up and spoke to Mike, giv- 
ing him some words of advice, and then strolled 
out, musing on the power of the gospel. But 
would it last? 

VII 
The following winter I saw the teacher in 
the Chicago Avenue Church one night. I at 
once inquired for Mike — had she seen him or 
had she heard of him? "Yes, I was on the 
street not many weeks ago, when I heard a 
voice calling, 'Teacher! teacher!' I looked 
around. A tall boy, in ulster coat, with cap 
drawn over his ears, held out to me a beauti- 
ful red rose, and, as I turned to take it from 
his hand, he said, 'I saw you passing and I 
thought you'd like it;' and before I could re- 
cover from my astonishment, before I could 
thank him, or had hardly recognized the boy, 
I got one glance from that twisted eye; and he 
had gone. It was Mike. I have not seen him 
since and I had not seen him before." But as 
I left that night the thought came back again 
and again to my mind: Though the tent has 
not returned, the boy, it seems, is still holding 
out to some extent. 

VIII 

Nearly two years had elapsed since the tent 
was first pitched in the city slums. Again I 
met the teacher. As we talked and brought 



MIKE 27 

Up reminiscences of other days, she asked, 
" Do you remember a boy named Mike, con- 
verted in your tent two years ago?" "Cer- 
tainly, I have often told his story; do you 
know anything of him?" "Yes, I was walk- 
ing down State Street a few days ago, when a 
young man stopped me, asking if I remem- 
bered him. I saw his eye; and then I said, 
'Mike!' 'Yes.' 'How are you getting 
along, my boy?' For answer he pulled from 
his pocket the well-worn five-cent Testament 
that I had given him two years before, and 
handed it to me. It was marked and fingered 
from cover to cover. It was lined with pencil 
and thumb-marked. It was soiled and dog- 
eared. I looked it over; turned it from side to 
side and recognized it as one of the cheap 
Testaments that I so often give out; but when 
I looked ^ver those well-worn leaves I could 
scarcely^ Mieve my eyes. 'Who did all this, 
Mike?' I gi'ked. 'I did,' he proudly answered. 
'Where do you go to church, and what are 
you doing these days?' 'Oh, I help down 
in the Waifs' Mission and anywhere that they 
need me.' " 

Still holding out, still helping and waiting 
for the tent that never came. 

IX 

Mike's eye has since been straightened and 



28 MIKE 

he has gone out from the great city into a 
smaller town to make his fortune. These lines 
may some day meet his eye and cheer him in 
his "holding out"; but often have I thought 
that when in my impatience I would throw 
him out, a w^oman's patient, Christlike love 
would hold him in; would hold him fast; 
would kindle in his heart a tiny spark; would 
fan it to a flame of heavenly fire; would see a 
jewel in his life — a diamond, uncut and rough, 
but still a diamond; would give her love, her 
strength, her time to cut and polish this strange 
jewel for the diadem of Christ, her King and 
Lord. And as I stop and think, I wonder if 
there are not many more slum diamonds yet 
unpolished and uncut that only wait for some 
dear soul with Christlike love to find them out ; 
with Christlike patience, never thinking of 
failure; caring only for his soul; for no re- 
ward except to hear the welcome plaudit, 
"Well done, good and faithful servant. Inas- 
much as ye have done it unto one of the least 
of these, ye have done it unto me." 

I sometimes wonder if at last, when worldly 
wood and hay and stubble which we build upon 
the faith we hold so dear, consume and leave 
us desolate — if these rare diamonds, so tenderly 
and patiently cut out, will not be all that is left 
of earth's long toiling in the temple of Eternity. 



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